Shadow Child
by pinkaffinity
Summary: Mako-centric : "I want to dance with you," she said as she reached for him. And he stood, wavering and questioning and wondering why she was doing this, why this girl was making him nervous and anxious and indecisive when he'd threatened to murder men before without the blink of an eye.


Mako held out his hand, wanting. He felt his toes itching to tap out his impatience, felt his fingers dying to scrabble for the money that tempted him and teased him. He took a deep breath; he hadn't eaten since breakfast and was a little hungry. He couldn't tell if that's what was making him anxious or if he was just sick of Shady Shin's backhanded compliments whenever they met up for a pay exchange inside the shadows of Silk Road.

"—never thought you'd come crawling back to us. Of all people. Well, you're not as pathetic-looking now, so that's good, but—"

Mako kept his hand steady and kept his face steady and kept himself steady as Shin counted out his and Bolin's share from the bets from yesterday's match, flicking through the yuans carelessly. Their colors flashed, pinks and purples and teals blurring, and Mako just wanted to grab them and go but he had to listen and he had to obey.

This was something he couldn't mess up.

They needed this.

"Nice work, Fire Ferret," Shin finally admitted, folding the stack of yuans into Mako's palm.

Mako closed his hand and shrugged his shoulders but knew it was the truth. Of course he'd be great. Sure, his pro-bending was top notch but that's not why he had taken this on. He'd taken it on because he was a liar and a strategist and a con-man in the making. After all, it had been his idea in the first place, his plan that sparked Zolt's interest in him, a lowly Blue Lantern. It was his plan that promised both he and Bolin a full membership. It was his plan that guaranteed a lifetime of prosperity and wealth with the Triads.

That is, if everything went according to said plan.

"Thanks," Mako said, shoving both his hands and the tight wad of cash deep into his pockets, safe from the city's eyes. Gripping the yuans, he knew it was more than he'd expected but not nearly as much as he wanted.

It was never enough.

"Good luck in the finals," Shin said, smirking.

"Right."

He kept his hands and the bet money hidden in his pockets as he turned to walk home, offering no more words. He slouched away and did not glance behind, but he knew Shin was watching, sizing him up and taking notes on the orphan boy who had indeed crawled back on hands and knees after his parents' voices had become a silence in his head.

A full stomach and the satisfaction of being admired for his skills were easier to love when he could no longer hear his father chastising him for being a criminal, when he could no longer imagine his mother's hands cupping his cheeks and begging him to just take Bolin and leave the city.

They were quiet now after years of hunger and exhaustion and suffering, after years of fighting and scrapping and tricking. If crime saved them, so be it. If he had nightmares of thick, dark blood that refused to wash from his hands, so be it.

The Triads had taught him so much. They'd taught him to read words and crunch numbers and they'd taught him to dance with pretty girls and use his good looks to his advantage. They'd taught him to bend lightning. And they'd taught him to come back to life. They'd fed him and Bolin and cared for them so they were boys instead of bones draped with sunken skin.

It was how they'd survived in their city of oil and smoke, in their city of smog and trash and home. He would not feel guilt for what he had done and what he did and what he planned to do. He refused to feel guilt, and he did not hate them.

So be it.

As Mako turned down the street, out of the darkness of Silk Road, the wind clawed at his face and tugged on his clothes. He pulled his scarf up higher and bent down, shielding his eyes. Satomobiles drove fast and streetlights flickered and shadows lengthened, guiding his way as the sun fell behind the skyline.

Shin's doubt and snide remarks hidden beneath disgruntled compliments still made Mako walk a little faster than normal, press his feet on the pavement a little harder than normal, but he had to admit: the money felt nice in his pocket. It always did. It never felt like it belonged, no… But it felt nice. It felt nice because he knew he'd be able to fill his stomach. He'd be able to surprise Bolin with something, anything.

He'd be able to feel like he wasn't what he was.

He felt the bills in his pocket, felt the way they slid against each other, humming sweetly in that perfect, papery sort of way beneath his fingers. They begged to be spent.

Mako had been hungry before but now that he had funds, he started to feel it. Granted, he didn't feel that clawing, aching hunger that sucked on his bones, but still, he wanted to eat. Thankfully, his feet were many steps ahead of his stomach, and before he could stop himself, he was walking out of a shop with a bag full of Komodo chicken dumplings to split between Bolin and himself. He popped one in his mouth as he continued walking to the arena and had already pulled out his second.

He hoped that (he swallowed a mouthful) Bolin would like this kind. Part of him still felt bad for yelling at him when he'd brought Korra to the box and for yelling at him after she'd left. He'd deserved it, yeah, because Bolin knew how serious this was, how their lives and livelihoods were at stake and there wasn't any room for girls or fun or anything, really. After Bolin had brought Korra in to watch that first match, Mako was livid; he did not shy away from letting Korra know his displeasure at her presence, and he certainly let Bolin have it too. His throat had felt scratchy the next morning; he'd yelled so loudly.

But then Hasook left and ditched the gang and… (where was he anyway? Dead? Picked up by the Red Monsoons? No, Zolt would have never let that fly…). And Mako couldn't help but feel lucky that Bolin had found Korra. Or maybe he was lucky because Korra turned out to be an amazing bender and the Avatar, and was definitely the best option to get them through to the finals of the tournament, despite the fact that she was the Avatar. She knew nothing of the plan or of their involvement with the Triple Threat Triad, but he could say this about her: she was a great athlete.

Mako would have told anyone that Korra was the sole reason they'd made it to the finals, if he were honest.

But he wasn't.

The familiar, metallic sound of his footsteps climbing the old stairs that led to their apartment rang out and Mako stuffed his third dumpling into his mouth as he approached the landing and hoped that Bolin was already back from his shift working that security job with the Triads. The dumplings tasted best fresh.

Mako entered the apartment. It did not feel empty.

Thoughts of Agni Kais and Red Monsoons came and went, leaving traces of blood and fire in their wake. A turf war was coming and they were just Blue Lanterns but if the plan had leaked so Mako's heart rhythm skipped and pulsed out of turn, and a resounding no dropped into the empty spaces of his body, twitching and twisting with worry and fear and everything else.

He'd done this for protection. He'd done this so he didn't have to feel the streets. His voice pushed thick and strained away from the fear.

"Bo?"

A noise fell from the catwalk; a grunt? The wood shifted above him.

Mako tossed the bag of dumplings down and reached for the closest ladder, climbing fast and readying the heat inside him for a quick attack. His hand hit last rung and he peeked over the top and nearly fell off.

Was that…

Korra?

More specifically, was that Korra's ass shifting directly in front of his face as she reached further beneath Bolin's bed?

"Pabu, I'll be nice, I promise! I didn't mean to step on your tail!" she exclaimed.

He stood behind her. "What do you think you're doing?" Mako said.

Korra jolted; her head collided with the bottom of the bed. She slid out and kneeled and rubbed the top of her head and looked up at him with pink cheeks.

"H-hi, Mako!"

"I asked a question."

"Well, I accidentally stepped on Pabu and was trying to get him back so I could apologize, but he won't come out for me."

Mako whistled, and Pabu scurried out from underneath the bed, scrabbling up Mako's pants and jacket and settling on his shoulders. His tail flicked from side to side. Mako's hand found its resting place on his hip and he shifted his weight, watching Korra as she stood.

"I meant what do you think you're doing here? In our apartment?"

"I'm here… for practice! I'd gone to the gym but neither of you were there so I thought I'd just—"

"We had practice this morning."

Korra bit her lip and Mako crossed his arms and they looked at each other for a moment or a hundred before Korra coughed and put both hands on her hips to confess. "Okay, okay. I'm here because I'm avoiding airbending training. Tenzin is getting on my last nerve, so I thought I'd come over and, um, hang out with Bolin or something."

"Or something."

She rubbed her arms and started looking around. "Yeah. Or something. But then neither of you were here but I didn't want to go back, and so I just… stayed?" Her smile fell to the left side of her face, and she looked up at him, fingers fiddling with one of her wolftails. "Where is Bolin anyway?"

Pabu jumped onto the bed at the sound of Bolin's name. "He's… out."

"Oh," she said. "Well, I'll just wait for him, I guess."

She stepped past him (arm brushing against arm) to get to the ladder, and he watched her curiously as she descended. He watched as she approached their couch and he watched as she climbed atop, looking out the window towards Air Temple Island.

"Bolin was right!" she said. "The view is pretty cool!"

Mako leaned over the railing and studied her because he couldn't for the life of him figure out why the Avatar was in his apartment. Bolin had promised the only time he would spend with Korra was during practice. It didn't make any sense. So he watched and listened and studied the way she balanced on her knees and the way her fingers splayed out over the window and the way her nose left a mark on the glass.

"I still think my view is better though." She turned and looked up at him and he looked down at her, so curious and so irritated. Why was she really here? "Have you ever seen the arena lit up from far away? With the reflection and everything?" Mako didn't know what to say so he said nothing at all. "It's um… it's really neat," Korra continued sheepishly, but her voice regained its usual excitement. "But it's not as neat as it's going to look the night of the championship match! You know, when we win the tournament, of course. You think there's going to be fireworks? I hope so…"

But the Fire Ferrets weren't going to win. They would lose.

They would lose because that was the plan and they had to follow the plan perfectly, and even though Korra had come and messed up Mako's plan, even though she would try so very hard to succeed, they were still going to lose.

She was good, but Mako was better.

He'd planned it all out perfectly. All throughout the tournament, the Triads had bet on the Fire Ferrets, the supposed underdogs. He and Bolin had practiced but sometimes their skill wasn't quite enough for the show of it all. Because it had to look easy. So sometimes he'd had to rig the matches and sometimes he'd have to suck up to referees and one time he had to kiss a green-eyed rich girl to get her to throw gobs of money their way but it had all worked thus far: they had won every match. So the Triads, and therefore Mako, had reaped the rewards.

But the final match was so near, and now the Ferrets had the best odds. They were slated to win. And so when everything was in their favor, all Triad bets would go to the opposing team instead. Their odds were terrible but the payout was insane. Mako would throw the match on purpose but he wouldn't really lose, since they'd all make out like bandits.

Gambling, cheating, lying, living. So be it.

Korra didn't know this, though. Korra didn't know any of it and she didn't need to. She couldn't know. She was the Avatar. She was good. She didn't know what the plan was and she didn't know that they were Blue Lanterns and she didn't know what it was like to live on the streets and look through dumpsters for food and hide in abandoned warehouses just to get away from the hot sun and how it ached to shiver violently after firebending for hours when there was nothing to catch light and he had to keep Bolin warm as he slept in winter with their only blanket being their blanket of stars.

She didn't know what it was like. She didn't know anything.

"Yeah, there's usually fireworks," he said finally as he began to climb back down the ladder.

They fell quiet. Korra stared out the window, and Mako rested with his head back and his eyes closed. After a few minutes, Korra broke the silence: "Hey, when's Bolin getting back anyway?"

Mako realized that he didn't know. He hadn't been informed who the security job was for. Bolin could be out for hours or he could be back in two seconds with a black eye and some other gang members.

And Mako realized that either of those would look suspicious and so he berated himself for not even considering the fact that their secrets, precious and cold and trembling, could be revealed to her and everything would fall apart. Even if she didn't spill to the cops, she would most certainly quit the team and they'd be out of luck and out of the tournament and out a million yuans.

Consequences were severe when things didn't work out for the Triple Threat Triad. Zolt could call a hit on them. Or worse, they could be separated. He didn't know.

No, he didn't want her here.

She had to leave.

Now.

_Now!_

"Have you seen much of the city yet?" he asked coolly, already knowing the answer.

She turned and plopped onto the couch, bouncing with the springs and a smile. "Nope, not really. Not after my first day here. I'm mostly stuck on the island. And then here for practice, of course."

"Good," he said. And everything he'd been taught came easily to him, hand outstretched, tiny smile subtle and lingering. "C'mon," he said as she stood with no questions, no hesitations.

They disappeared together into the city, and the dark, fading sunlight kissed their faces between the shadows of buildings. Mako wasn't quite sure what to show her… all he knew was dirty and mean and hidden and his, and that wasn't for her to see. So they stayed under the slowly-lighting street lamps on nice, clean streets with nice, clean people. His city of shadows was not to be uncovered for it would lead to questions that he didn't want to answer which would lead to answers that the Avatar wouldn't understand anyway.

But still they talked as they walked, and Mako couldn't help but notice that there were so many things that he hadn't noticed before. Or maybe he hadn't let himself notice? He'd honestly never given her enough of his time and attention to care, to observe her in detail, to see these little quirks. Korra gestured frantically as she spoke. She looked down when she smiled and she pouted constantly. She had immense, silent focus in practice, but now Korra talked and moved and grinned and teased.

Her hands swirled and twisted as she spoke: "They were all going on and on and on about 'being the leaf' or something stupid like that but no matter what I did, the gates just kept slamming into me!"

His eyebrows raised. "Don't you mean that you kept slamming into the gates?"

She pouted. Again. "No! They were slamming into me."

"Ah. Okay then."

"And so I tried again and again and again and then I kinda… burned down all the gates?"

"All of them?!"

She laughed. "I'd never seen Tenzin so mad."

"Obviously. That's not very leaf-like." He smiled at her and she chuckled again. That was another thing. Korra laughed a lot. Sometimes nervously. Sometimes genuinely. Sometimes at his expense.

And Mako didn't have to lie. For once.

Night hugged the city, but Mako wasn't lost. Korra had mentioned that she had no idea where they were and how awesome that was, but all at once her arm had slipped closer and linked itself around his. She leaned into him and his eyes widened and his breath caught and the harsh, mean, angry _what do you think you're doing_ leapt into his throat and—

"What's that?" Korra asked, pointing in front of them.

It slipped back down inside him, letting his eyes focus and ignore her body touching his.

"Oh. That's the Moon Peach. It's like a jazz nightclub."

She gasped and started pulling him forward. "Let's go! I've never seen a real live jazz band before! I've only ever heard jazz on the radio before! And now I get to see it for real!" she exclaimed. "This is amazing!" Then she let go of his arm, and he reached to open the door for her. "Very gentlemanlike," she teased, but before he could say anything she was gone, gone, gone, walking straight to the stage area, where the band was already playing and she stood alone, taken away by the music.

He, however, was thirsty. Mako headed over towards the bar. He tapped his fingers on the counter like he'd been taught, and the barkeep shuffled over to him.

"What can I do for ya, son?"

"I'll have a…" he hesitated. He glanced at Korra, enamored by the big band, eyes bright and wide. The yuans were still singing in his pocket. This was helping the plan, he reminded himself. This was important. He could spend money. He had to spend it. He looked at her again as he ordered. "Yeah, I'll have two Southsides."

The ice rattled inside the glasses and the liquor poured and Mako slapped a few yuans on the table. He grabbed the drinks and a free table away from the bar and the band and the people that filled the floor before the stage. Mako swirled his drink, took a sip, and studied Korra as she stared up at the musicians, the goofiest of grins on her face.

She'd been on their team for weeks. He'd seen her nearly every morning for weeks. He'd thrown every curveball he could in practice at her and she always met him fiercely and upped the ante. He'd defended her in matches, teamed up with her in matches, embraced her for the briefest of moments after a win when he knew she'd saved them in matches. He knew her, yes. But he did not _know_ her.

He knew that she was the Avatar, the spirit of the world, everything that was good and whole. And he knew that she was so incredibly different from him.

Korra had told them both once about the stress of it all, how she had to live up to the world's expectations. Avatar Aang had left her with a legacy and she was supposed to do all these great things, master airbending, accomplish feats, spread peace, travel and negotiate and be the bridge to the Spirit World.

She was to save everyone.

"So being the spotlight during the tournament will be a piece of cake," she'd told them. She smiled then and changed the subject, and Mako had seen the way her eyes had darkened but he hadn't cared enough to ask her about it. He hadn't cared then, but now there was a twinge of curiosity that tickled him.

Mako didn't know what that was like. He'd never felt that. He'd always lived in the shadows, always climbed and scrabbled and cheated and begged. He'd watched everything be taken away from him. He'd watched his parents die and watched his brother vomit bile and watched himself cry. He was a liar, a cheater, a thief, and he would be the best con-man there'd ever been. He would have that. He would have something.

He would deceive the Avatar. He would throw the match. He would win the bets and get that admiration and respect and money and protection and he and Bolin would finally have something. For them.

Korra was so… so…

"Mako!" she said as she waved and walked to him. The song had stopped; the musicians were prepping for the next one, flipping through sheets of music and adjusting their instruments and sipping water.

The next song was starting, the lutes strumming, and she was marching straight up to him, pushing herself against the table, and he took a drink — "Dance with me!" she cried — which he nearly spit out.

"Excuse me?" he said after clearing his throat.

"I asked you to dance with me."

"No, thanks. I don't dance," he lied, fixing his eyes back onto his glass. "And besides, I'm very content right here."

"Well, I'm not. I want to dance."

"There're plenty of people here to dance with."

"I want to dance with you," she said as she reached for him. And he stood, wavering and questioning and wondering why she was doing this, why this girl was making him nervous and anxious and indecisive when he'd threatened to murder men before without the blink of an eye. "Don't be shy."

He touched her hand, thin fingers stretching between hers. She grinned and turned and led him to the dance floor.

Was he trembling?

But soon they lost themselves in the crowd of dancers, and Mako let his ears adjust to the rhythm of the music, the beat of the drums and the melody of the flute. It was a tango, soft and sensual. She hadn't let go of his hand yet. His other hand curved around to her waist, and hers rested on his shoulder. And they began to dance, holding each other together as their feet moved back and forth and side to side, as music flowed through the spaces between their bodies.

"Smile!" Korra said, and he obeyed easily but didn't say anything. Neither spoke. They just danced, closer, touching, near. He couldn't tell who was leading. Her head fell onto his chest and he could hear her breathing, feel her, see her breathing, and he pulled her closer to him, hand pressed firmly against her lower back and there was no more space for the music.

Mako had never felt so nervous.

"Thank you…" Korra said, her voice muffling against his jacket, itching to press against his skin.

"For what?"

"For a lot of things, I guess," she said. "For getting me away from Tenzin, for showing me the city, for making me laugh, for giving me a chance on the team." His heart pounded offbeat. "And for dancing. With me."

"Uh… you're welcome?"

"And thank you for letting me go on and on about how excited I am to win the tournament. I know I'm the Avatar and all and I'm supposed to be all about peace and balance and blah blah blah, but man, it's gonna feel so good just kicking ass for the sake of kicking ass," she said. "Not to mention winning all that prize money for you and Bolin."

She didn't care about the winnings? Did she really not care about it? Did she really care that much about them? Korra pulled away from him slightly. She craned her neck back to look at him and he bent his down to look at her.

"I can't wait to win. You know? I wanna win so I can have… something. For me. You know?"

Her hand was in his and her body was against his, and he realized that they'd stopped dancing. The music whirled around them, the crowd moved around them, their hearts beat, beat, beat inside them.

He wanted it too. No, he needed it. He needed something nameless and indescribable, something that changed his life and granted happiness and safety, something that filled the gnawing holes that haunted him still. He needed something for all those days where he was too hungry to even care, all those evenings staked out in front of the train station to pick pockets, all those nights fighting and winning and healing the bruises, scrapes, burns. He needed it for Bolin. He needed it for himself.

He needed respect, admiration, fear. He needed his father's hand on his shoulder. He needed his mother's kiss on his forehead.

Something.

"Yeah. I know."

Korra stared up at him, motionless, lips half-parted. Her eyes were almost a turquoise color. He'd never noticed, had he? There were so many things he had never noticed about her, so many things that had gone under his radar and he didn't even know why. Even now, he didn't notice the way she stood on her tiptoes, didn't notice the way her hands had moved to his shoulders, didn't notice the closing gap between them.

All he noticed was the taste of her lips as she pressed her mouth to his.

His eyes closed so that was all there was. Lips and music and remnants of the tango wriggling through their muscles, hot breaths and something, something. She tasted so… good. Sweet, pure. Wonderful. Not like him. He wasn't good, but she was. She was something.

He bent to lean into the kiss, his hands moving to her face because this was not like those kisses he'd used to cheat and lie. This was honest and this was right and just as he pushed forward, she pulled back, eyes wide.

"Sorry. I can't believe I just… I just… sorry," she muttered, shuffling backward with pink cheeks to their table, where she clutched her drink and looked at nothing.

Korra struck him, stole him, and he was still, standing there, staring at this girl who'd saved and ruined his plans all at once, this girl who drove him crazy, this girl who should never have met him. He was a poor boy that the world had abandoned, a boy that had found his hope in loving his brother and in crime and in lies and in suffering. Everything had been a scam, a lie, all those matches, but for the first time, he actually wanted to win. He wanted it, honestly and truly. He wanted to throw the plan out the window, he wanted to run, he wanted to kiss her again and again and again and dance with her and make her laugh and show her that they were so very different, but that was okay. That was good.

He wanted to be good.

So he followed her, knowing fully well what he would tell her. He leaned on his elbows, leaned closer to her as she emptied her drink.

"You know, I'm really excited about winning too."

She smiled at him and he smiled at her. He wanted her, he wanted this. But wanting was different from needing. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back and they pressed their bodies together and swayed. He dipped her down and held her tightly. She grinned so brightly, and it sent him soaring and crashing all at once because he knew that she would not be this happy when they lost.

He couldn't give it up.

He yanked her back up and she fell against him and he laughed, wanting to vomit the guilt that sank inside him, knowing that he would hurt her. The guilt furrowed down deep inside him, and it scared him. He had not felt it in so many years, had not felt so many things so strongly in so many years, not since he saw his parents' skin bubbled and raw. The guilt was so intense, so thick, but no matter what he felt, it just wasn't as thick as the wad of cash he and Bolin would get from the Triads when they tossed the match.

He was in too deep, too involved with the Triads and too devoted to Bolin and too bad, too gone. He was a shadow and she was the sun, sparkling in his hands as she whirled around to the music and he caught her, wanted her, needed her.

But not even the Avatar could save him now.

So be it.


End file.
